


Remembrance (Dreams of the Dead Remix)

by magicites



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dreambubble shenanigans, Frontierstuck, Gen, fake alchemy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicites/pseuds/magicites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There are things in this universe that are not meant to be trifled with. My colleagues and I learned that lesson long after it was too late. Most of all, the study of something that straddles the line between science and the magic wizards use in fairy tales should not occur in front of impressionable eyes. There are a great number of things I regret, but agreeing to – or maybe, encouraging her to would be more correct – teach Rose alchemy is my biggest regret of all.”<br/>-	Roxanne Lalonde, journal entry; date unknown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembrance (Dreams of the Dead Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShinjiShazaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinjiShazaki/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Frontierstuck](https://archiveofourown.org/works/204049) by [ShinjiShazaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinjiShazaki/pseuds/ShinjiShazaki). 



> When I saw who I had gotten for my assignment, I knew I had to do Frontierstuck. I had read it before, and wow, it is such a good AU.
> 
> I have spent the last two weeks panicking over this, and trying again and again to write a decent remix for this. I didn't know what I was doing two weeks ago. I still don't know what I'm doing now, but I hope with all of my heart that this came out to be at least a quarter decent.
> 
> Go read the original if you haven't! The length may be daunting, but it is completely worth it. Hell, even something as simple as the amazing friendship between Rose and Jade (something I barely, if ever, see in fic) in Frontierstuck makes it completely worth reading. That's not even counting the worldbuilding or the plot or the characterizations...
> 
> Anyways, enough gushing. I really hope you enjoy this!

As the lone inhabitant of a sprawling dream bubble floating somewhere in the deepest reaches of a strange dimension, Roxanne Lalonde (known by her colleagues as Roxy; known by her daughter as Mom, or, as she last heard, the word _Mother_ , whispered as a curse) was perfectly content to spend a portion of the eternity that made up her afterlife re-enacting moments of her life sealed tightly within her memory.

It was something she did quite often, actually. Other dreambubbles rarely intersected with hers, and even when they did, they often contained scared, young aliens with their potential cut short by an untimely death who never saw past her pale skin and her hornless head. They often left within moments, pulling their bubbles away to travel in a different direction.

She had been called a freak brigandrift more than once. She had been screamed at hysterically multiple times; attacked by these aliens who were no older than her own daughter would be now, claws outstretched and fury marring smooth gray faces.

Apparently she had ruined lives multiple times. She wasn’t aware that the dead were capable of that.

Of course, she had eventually learned that it was because of Rose and her friends. In their quest to right their sin and kill Jack Noir, the beast created in the aftermath of a failed alchemy experiment (the same demon that killed her in the span of a single heartbeat. She held a hope deep in her chest that part of their motivation to end his life was to avenger hers), they traveled the Alternian terrain in pursuit of him.

Though, that wasn’t really a topic that concerned her anymore. Nor was it a topic that she wished to dwell on for any longer.

After all, she had memories to travel through.

Roxy stood in front of the Lalonde manor; a towering, white mansion that sprawled across acres of grassy fields trimmed to perfection. The sky overhead was a bright, crystalline blue, with only a few white clouds cutting through the expanse of color. She found herself on a winding dirt path that stretched on into the forest behind her.

She ascended the white steps slowly, taking care not to make the boards beneath her feet creak. They did anyways, loud in the warm spring air, and she silently cursed herself. She sat down on a bright red bench, reclining comfortably against the familiar curve of the wood, and picked up the leather bound notebook next to her.

Ah, yes. She remembered this book well, fingers unconsciously tightening around its spine, as if she could murder it for the travesties it inadvertently caused.

She opened it to a random page, examining the meticulously drawn designs covering the pages. Roxy was no steady artist, but alchemy circles required precision, and so she was forced to record them flawlessly. It had taken years to perfect the art of transcribing the designs.

The pages were familiar to her, carved into her mind after so much time spent practicing them over and over. She could probably recreate them in her sleep, if she tried hard enough.

She snorted. There were times where she had performed alchemy under a state of intoxication that bordered on dangerous, and still managed not to lose an arm in the process. Sleep alchemy (something that Mr. Harley had been prone to, rather than sleepwalking) was nothing compared to that.

Besides, alchemy was just the transformation of material from one thing to another. There was nothing hard or demonic about it, despite what those simpletons who condemned her and her colleagues thought.

She was too absorbed in her own thoughts to hear the footsteps padding quietly towards her or the sound of fabric rustling as someone joined her on the bench. She only snapped out of her reverie when she heard a calm, clear voice address her. “You have the book again, Mom.”

Roxy’s head snapped to the side, and she found a pair of lavender eyes (still colored with an air of innocence, thank the stars) staring at her calmly, boring into her very soul. Even as a little girl, even when she was untainted by a conquest for knowledge and dark energies that consumed her after she dabbled in affairs that mortals should never interfere with, she still held an aura of maturity that made many adults feel childish.

It certainly made her feel childish. Perhaps that was why she jumped with a start, and shoved the book off to the side. “Hello, Rosie darling,” she greeted. “How are you? Are you hungry yet?”

She knew this memory well. It was not one she was proud of, but she went through the motions regardless.

Rose shook her head, the movement slow and deliberate. She attempted to lean over Roxy to get a better look at the book, but she snapped it shut and ignored Rose’s pout. “Why don’t you teach me?” She asked insistently. “Jade’s learning it!”

“Just because your friend may be doing something doesn’t mean that you have to as well,” she chided.

“But that doesn’t explain _why_. Why can’t I do it?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“That doesn’t stop you.”

Roxy sighed bitterly, her breath rattling in her chest like an iron chain. “Yes, but I’m not a little girl, now am I?”

“Are you saying you don’t trust me?” Rose asked innocently, drawing up within herself. The sight made Roxy’s chest twist with guilt. Despite the years that had passed, the grief tearing into her heart was still as sharp as ever.

“No, of course not, darling! But a mother must keep her children safe, and what kind of mother would I be if I let you practice something that could kill you with one wrong move?”

“But I wouldn’t make a false step! I can do it, if you’d just trust me!” Rose insisted, speaking loudly with childish earnest. Roxy could feel her resolve cracking with every word, disintegrating until there was nothing left.

Rose watched her with such grim determination (it simply didn’t fit right on a face that young) that she knew, deep in her heart, that stopping Rose from studying alchemy simply wasn’t an option. She focused sharply on anything and everything that caught her interest, and even if the universe itself stood in her way, she’d tear it apart in order to reach her goal.

The air around her seemed to freeze, the light breeze that once ruffled Roxy’s hair coming to a screeching halt. A shiver ran down her back, but Rose kept that look focused directly on her.

Her daughter reached over her lap, and gently picked up the book by her side, cradling it in her hands as if it held the answer to everything.

In reality, it didn’t. It only held questions that she should have never asked.

 Alchemy was useful for changing matter into different states, but with the Green Sun Theorem the great Mr. Harley had postulated just days earlier, it became a potential source of limitless energy. If it was true and if the Green Sun really did exist, then the only limit to their power was their imagination.

It was highly dangerous.

At the time, Roxy found it exciting. Now, as her eyes phased out to blank white sockets for a split second, she felt a wave of regret wash over her. It threatened to pull her away from her memory, but even when she blinked, Rose was still there, still flipping through the pages of the book. Her eyes were wide with wonder.

“Alright,” she found herself saying, though her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, “you win, Rosie. We’ll start tomorrow. First thing in the morning, so make sure to go to bed early.”

She had never seen Rose’s smile become so genuine, shining with pure joy. She beamed up at Roxy, and even though she didn’t move any closer to hug her, the pure love and gratitude she felt filled the air around them.

After a few moments, Rose calmed down, and nodded slowly, trying her best to appear mature. She primly slipped off the bench, and returned to the house, door closing shut behind her. She had taken the book.

Roxy stood up, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension out of them. The scenery hadn’t changed at all, but somehow, it felt a little different.

When she stepped towards the door, she noticed the change; the house was duller now, the color softened to an off-white with age. The sky overhead was still bright and cheery, though now, it just seemed all wrong.

She opened the door, to find Rose staring up at her. She was thirteen now, and carried herself as if she held every answer in the world.

Roxy realized with a sinking feeling that she knew this memory all too well. Why did she have to revisit the painful ones (the ones she regretted the most, that plagued her conscience even in death) now, of all times?

Even now, this memory of Rose was only eye level with her shoulder. Roxy could reach out and wrap her arms around her daughter, and still be able to tuck her under her chin.

Rose would probably wrap around her in return, holding her tightly. At the time, she remembered feeling a giddy sense of joy whenever Rose showed some modicum of caring. Looking back, she was so, so wrong. Any gesture of affection wasn't real, but a passive aggressive move to trump her.

Her bright eyes were lined by dark bags. She must have been up all night studying again.

“Rosie, honey, go get some sleep! You look so tired,” Roxy chided, gently resting her hands on Rose’s shoulders.

She twitched, and shook herself free. “I’m fine, mother.” Not Mom; not anymore. Only Mother. “Though, I do have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Why can’t people accept alchemy? I don’t understand – it’s a valid science, and one that could benefit the entire world!”

She sighed bitterly, dreading the direction that she already knew this conversation would take. Still, she played along with the scene, not wanting to disrupt the memory and send this specter into the shadows.

“People are afraid of change. It’s too much for them,” Roxy responded.

“Well, why can’t we calm them down and show them that their fears are unfounded?”

Roxy opened her mouth, but no answer to that question came out. She shook her head, slowly, and set her hands on Rose’s shoulders. They flickered under her grip, phasing in and out of existence. “It just can’t happen, dear. I’m sorry.”

Her eyes narrowed, and a cold shudder ran down her back, though she tried her best to ignore it.

“Fine,” Rose said, as if she had let her down somehow, as if she had broken her trust. She turned on one heel, and stomped off into the house, leaving her mother behind her, one arm extended in hopes of catching her again.

She tried desperately to follow her, but as she did, her surroundings shifted slightly again. She was entering another memory, and with her luck, this one would be the one she dreaded the most.

Not because of what happened to her. No, that was bearable. But the thought of seeing what happened to Rose…

A whine, something childish and scared, sounded in the back of her throat.

The house around her turned even darker, developing a fine coating of dust in just moments. The lights blinked out, casting her in shadows. Her footsteps pounded along the floorboards, creaking and shuddering under her weight.

She reached the basement door, and when she looked back, she found the other children’s guardians standing by her. John’s father was at her side, face set in grim determination. Mr. Harley cradled a rifle in his hands (so much like his granddaughter’s, she realized), and Strider’s knuckles turned white around the katana he kept with him at all times.

It was deathly silent. They held their breath, all feeling a shared sense of anxiety and worry. The air grew tense and heavy around them, weighing them down and threatening to crush them into the ground.

That was when they heard screaming.

It pierced Roxy’s heart, high and clear, like a siren blaring in her ears. Adrenaline surged through her body, and she summoned her own catalyst instantly. The rifle was heavy and comforting in her hands. She reached out to the door, but Strider beat her to it, kicking down the door with such a force that it splinted in two, hanging right off the hinges.

They rushed in, Roxy taking the lead. That scream was so high that it could only belong to Rose or Jade, but somehow she knew that only her daughter would ever do something foolish enough to cause herself this much pain.

She was a headstrong, determined, stubborn, reserved little girl who thought she understood the world when she really didn’t.

Oh, where did Roxy go wrong in raising her.

The sound filled the air, fully inhuman and full of incomprehensible rage. She heard other shouts as well, but they still sounded human, completely filled with emotion and worry. The scream that broke them all was something much more devastating than that.

She soldiered on, breaking into a run down the stairs, heels clacking against the worn steps. She reached the bottom seconds before the others.

That’s when she saw it. A corpse curled up in the middle of the floor, long black hair trailing down it’s pale back. She thought it to be Jade for a split second, before she forced herself to tear her eyes away from the center of the circle.

(She recognized that formula. Rose had drawn it over and over for months now. It covered the walls of her bedroom. Roxy never said a word about it.)

“Rosie, no! Stop!” Jade cried. She clung to Rose, arms wrapped tightly around the waist of the girl who still kneeled at the edge of the circle. Her eyes were a ghostly, blank white, and gray shadows slithered up her body from the bloody symbols covering her body. She lurched forward and coughed up a blackish sludge, dribbling down her chin and pooling over the chalk design covering the floor.

Dave and John were nearby, both knocked away by some unknown force. John was the first to spring up, hammer in hand. He looked back and offered a hand to Dave, who took it and hopped back up onto his feet.

“Goddammit, sis. You just had to go and fly the coop, didn’t you? Fuckin’ leavin’ us to clean up this steaming pile. Don’t give a shit if you’ve gone crazy or not, since a broad like you can come back whenever you decide to quit this horseshit!” He shouted, face red under his glasses.

Rose screamed louder, though she quieted moments later. Her body writhed, and Jade still held on tight, face twisted in intense concentration. Tears gathered on her eyelashes, threatening to fall. “Rose, please! Whatever this is, it’s dangerous! You have to fight it!” She sobbed into her shoulder, on the verge of hysterics.

Rose’s mouth opened, and her lips moved as if she was attempting to speak to them, though the sounds that crawled out of her mouth were in a foreign tongue, one she had never heard before. She seemed to glare at them, and her skin flickered to a dark gray.

She placed her hands on the circle again, and a great light filled the room. Shouts of confusion soon followed, but came to a sudden halt when they felt their bodies being pushed to and fro by cosmic forces. Ethereal voices sang inside of Roxy’s mind, and when she opened her eyes, she found the group – Rose, the other kids and guardians, and herself – standing in front of a writing mass of black shadows that stretched on for eternity.

A single, golden eye stared down at them all. Only Rose looked back impassively, as if she was used to this.

_h a h a h a_

_m e r e m o r t a l s_

_d a b b l I n g i n a f f a I r s f a r b e y o n d y o u r c o m p r e h e n s I o n_

_w e n o w h a v e o u r s p e a k e r_

_b u t y o u s t i l l m u s t f a c e t h e c o n s e q u e n c e s_

The very world around them screamed. Roxy fought to keep her consciousness, and while she succeeded in that endeavor, she still was forced to her knees, clamping her hands over her ears in a desperate attempt to keep her sanity.

It took what felt like eons for the world to calm down. When the air returned to her looks, she took in a grateful breath, and looked around.

The world had changed – literally. She kneeled upon dry grass, feeling sharp and alien under her touch as she ran her hands along it. She looked up to the sky, and saw two moons hanging in the night sky; one pink, one green.

“We aren’t in Kansas anymore,” she muttered quietly. The joke was old, but it was the only thing she could think of.

The others were still unconscious, laying down on the ground as if they were peacefully asleep. A black bundle – the burnt remains of the corpse, she assumed – was in the middle of that _fucking_ transmutation circle.

 Only Rose stood, her back turned to Roxy.

She stood up, legs shaking underneath her, and stumbled over to her daughter. She rested her hand upon her thin shoulder, gently touching the fabric of the torn white blouse she worn, and a mottled gray and white face looked up at her.

“Rosie…” She whispered, and drew her into a hug. “Don’t you _dare_ do this to me, young lady,” she whispered, ignoring the tears building up in the corners of her eyes, “you’ve put everyone through so much already. Don’t you dare go through this…this grimdark bullshit!” Her voice had risen to a shout, and she drew back until Rose was at arm’s length.

Rose babbled something in that alien tongue to her, only causing the explosive mixture of emotions flowing through Roxy to burst. With a shot of frustration, she drew her hand back, and slapped Rose across her face, the sound of skin hitting skin loud and sharp in the crisp night air.

She felt instantly drained, as if that single movement had taken all of her energy. Her breaths came in heavy pants, and she felt regret as an angry red mark bloomed across Rose’s cheek.

But Rose moved slightly, and the gray drained from her face, leaving behind her pristine pale skin. Her mouth opened just the tiniest bit, and for a moment, she looked exactly like the little girl Roxy used to carry around in her arms.

“Mom.” Rose said. Not mother. Not whispered as a curse. Just small, and so, so frightened.

“Rosie,” she whispered back, pulling her into another crushing hug. This time, Rose wrapped her arms around her in turn.

“I fucked up,” Rose admitted. “I fucked up and now I’ve doomed the only people who have ever cared about me.”

“Shhh,” Roxy murmured, bringing a hand up to stroke her hair, “it’ll be ok. You’ll be fine, Rosie.”

At the time, Roxy didn’t realize that a change had come over her daughter. She didn’t notice the way Rose held on to her for dear life, or the sincerity that had finally returned to her voice.

Nor did she notice the black shape rise from the transmutation circle. She didn’t notice it stagger its way through her friends, her colleagues, the children she considered to be practically hers, stepping on their unconscious bodies as if they were simply a part of the grass itself.

She didn’t notice the arm it stretched towards her.

She only noticed a sharp, sudden pain race through her back, flooding her entire body with panic. She pushed Rose away just in time to see a clawed, furry hand poke out of her stomach.

Her eyes widened; she coughed, and a small amount of blood landed on her dress, staining the purple fabric red. This had been one of her favorites, alchemized by Rose when she was still young and innocent and full of muted love.

She turned her head, and saw a demon grinning at her, canine face twisted into a grimace.

The name appeared in her mind, the same whisper she heard when she had first alchemized her catalyst, the weapon that let her and the other alchemists perform with just a tap of said weapon.

“Jack Noir,” she said, and fell to the ground.

The memory ended there, with her eyes closing as the life flowed out of her body with the blood pooling on the ground. She heard vague noises in the background; a shout from Jade, from Dirk, but the loudest came from Rose herself. She smiled weakly, and her eyes finally fluttered shut.

The singing pain through her body vanished as the memory ended. She stood up without much of a problem, but the dull ache in her stomach served to remind her of her death.

She sighed. That was the end of that. That was the story of her life, nothing more than a series of failures and regrets because she was never strong enough to protect the ones she loved.

She knew that Rose would succeed where she had failed. A bright young woman like that could do anything she desired.

Roxy began to walk, and the alien grass beneath her feet gave way to a very familiar dirt path. It led her direction to her manor, restored to its former glory. It seemed that she needed to return to the beginning. As if this was nothing but a game.

The thought brought a smirk to her lips.

“I guess I’m expecting a visitor,” she said, only to practice using her tired, strained voice. She had known this fact for a while. Her dreambubble was long overdue for visitors.

She sat down on the red bench, crossing one elegant, thin leg over the other. She tapped out a quiet beat with the foot remaining on the ground.

Time didn’t exactly pass in the dreambubbles how it did in the mortal world. It was nearly impossible to judge how long it had been since she had last been alive.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. After all, she had to look her best for such an important event.

Mother-daughter reunions that transcended mortality itself didn’t exactly happen every day.


End file.
